


in other words, i love you

by zach_stone



Category: Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Canon, Post-Movie: Pacific Rim: Uprising (2018), Recovery, Slow Dancing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-13
Updated: 2018-05-13
Packaged: 2019-05-06 06:22:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14635892
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zach_stone/pseuds/zach_stone
Summary: Newt is having a difficult day. Hermann has an idea to make it better.





	in other words, i love you

**Author's Note:**

  * For [decadent_mousse](https://archiveofourown.org/users/decadent_mousse/gifts).



> ok, so this fic was inspired by [this tweet](https://twitter.com/kaijufker69/status/992723252823797762) that made me weep when i first saw it, though i mostly just played with the slowdancing and sharing headphones bit because i kinda went my own direction with the rest. it's also dedicated to mousse, who has been so kind as to let me send him my sappy thoughts about newmann pretty much 24/7. i hope you enjoy, my friend!!

It’s just starting to rain as Hermann reaches his front porch, flipping through his keyring and unlocking the door. He shakes a few stray droplets from his hair and crosses the threshold, calling, “I’m home!” into the house. There’s no reply, but he can hear the clink of dishes and the hiss of the faucet coming from the kitchen. He shrugs out of his coat and takes a moment to hang it properly on the hook — and then to hang Newton’s coat on the hook beside it, because it was lying in a heap on top of their stack of shoes. Hermann sighs, trying for exasperation but only finding fondness.

He makes his way into the kitchen. Newt’s back is to him, washing the dishes and wearing headphones. Hermann watches him from the doorway for a moment. Newt is nodding his head to the music, unable to stop his body from wiggling and bobbing to the beat even as he’s up to his elbows in dishwater. A smile tugs at the corner of Hermann’s mouth. He closes the distance between them and places a gentle hand on Newt’s lower back. Newt startles, yelping and dropping a handful of flatware into the sink with a wet clatter.

“Oh, you’re home!” he says, turning to look at Hermann with a bright smile. He’s not quite shouting, but definitely speaking louder than is strictly necessary at such a proximity. “I didn’t hear you come in.”

“May I?” Hermann says, gesturing to the headphones. Newt shrugs, and Hermann plucks one of the earbuds from Newt’s ear and places it in his own. He flinches back immediately as Freddie Mercury screams into his ear at a volume that seems wholly unnecessary, considering Newton is listening to the music in an otherwise silent house. “No wonder you couldn’t hear me,” he says, dropping the earbud so it dangles against Newt’s chest. “Are you trying to go deaf?”

Newt shuts off the sink and grabs a dishtowel, drying his hands before taking out the other earbud and fidgeting with the wires. “I like it loud,” he says, his tone falling short of indignant. “It helps — distract me.”

“Ah,” Hermann says, understanding at once. “Bad brain day?”

“Could be better,” Newt confirms, a wry smile twisting his lips. “It’s fine. Saw my shrink today, watched the beginning of seven nature documentaries, and now I’m doing the dishes. I also ironed all our socks. Not sure why.”

In the year since Newton was successfully freed from the clutches of the Precursors’ hivemind, Hermann has yet to fully understand exactly what happens in Newt’s brain on what they both refer to as “bad brain days.” It’s difficult for Newt to articulate, though the best he’s come up with is loud static, and a feeling like he’s floating loose inside his skill. Remnants from his time as a prisoner within his own mind, claim the many doctors he’s seen. As months have passed, it seems to be lessening in effects, but Newton’s still not cleared to return to work, and with so much time to stew in his own thoughts, it‘s no wonder such episodes still occur. His solution, as he explained to Hermann recently, is distraction by any means necessary. Ironing socks is not the strangest thing he’s done.

“Well, it has been a while since I’ve given my socks a good ironing,” Hermann says, tone light and teasing. He’s trying to gauge Newton’s mood, see if he’s still stewing or if destroying his eardrums with Queen at full blast has improved his spirits.

“I’m coming for your tighty-whiteys next,” Newt replies with a grin.

Hermann glowers at him. “I do _not_ wear —“ he starts, but Newt’s laughter cuts him off.

“Believe me, babe, I know you don’t,” Newt says. “I am _intimately_ familiar with your underwear.”

“Hmmph,” Hermann responds eloquently, trying to maintain a stern face but cracking a smile despite his best efforts. Seeing Newt smile, hearing him laugh — it’s been a year and it still leaves him nearly breathless with gratitude and relief every time. For a good stretch, he’d been fairly certain he’d never get to experience either again.

Newt steps away from the sink and wraps his arms around Hermann’s middle, pulling him into a hug. Hermann leans his cane against the counter and presses one hand against Newt’s back, the other moving to card through his hair. Newton lets out a soft breath at the touch.

“How was work?”

“Oh, the usual nightmare,” Hermann sighs. “I had _several_ meetings about the future of PPDC, as if we haven’t been talking about this for the past decade and then some. I did come up with a rather interesting theory on how to improve the limb articulation of some of the smaller jaegers, but getting the simulations running was a nightmare, of course…” He goes on for a few minutes, getting increasingly irritated as he recounts the roadblocks he encountered that day, until he accidentally yanks on Newt’s hair in a particularly irate gesture.

“Ow!” Newt says, lifting his head from where it’s been tucked in the crook of Hermann’s neck. “Calm down, man, I’m not the one who spilled kaiju blue on your laptop.”

Hermann refrains from pointing out that Newt _had_ spilled kaiju blue on many of his possessions over the years, and instead says, “I’m sorry. I got a bit carried away.”

Newt smirks at him. “That’s okay. You’re hot when you’re angry.”

“And you are insufferable,” Hermann responds, leaning forward to kiss him. Newt hums, pleased, and they spend the next several minutes groping each other like a couple of teenagers. When they finally break apart, Newt is backed up against the counter, breathless, and Hermann presses a soft kiss to his jaw.

“That was a much nicer distraction than doing the dishes,” Newt says, grabbing Hermann’s hand and squeezing it once.

“Yes,” Hermann agrees, and then glances over at the sink. “However, those dishes _do_ need to get done…”

Newt blinks at him for a moment before they both start laughing. “Man, you really know how to kill the mood,” he says.

 

Hermann helps Newt finish the dishes, and then retreats to the living room, backup laptop in hand, to go over the documents Jake sent him as he was leaving the Shatterdome. Rain is pattering against the windows in earnest, and the house feels warm and peaceful. Hermann gets lost in his work for a bit, and it’s been more than an hour before he looks up to see Newt sitting in the armchair with his tablet, clearly trying to read something but with a jittery, uncomfortable look on his face. He still has his headphones in, but the distraction doesn’t seem to be working so well now. Hermann recognizes that look, knows when Newt is getting too deep in his thoughts. He glances back at his computer screen, not really absorbing the contents anymore, and an idea occurs to him. He pulls out his phone and taps around for a moment, then sets his laptop aside and gets to his feet, standing in front of Newton and holding out his hand.

Newt looks up from the tablet and raises an eyebrow, pulling out his earbuds. “What’s up?”

“I thought you could let me pick the next couple of songs,” Hermann says, holding up his phone. “I’ve made a short playlist.”

“Okay… you want to give me your phone?” Newt says, still a bit confused. He takes Hermann’s proffered hand and allows him to pull him to his feet.

“Well, not exactly. I thought we could listen together. And, ah… dance.”

“For real? What’s gotten into you, Mr. I-Can’t-Dance?” Newt says, starting to smile.

“That’s _Doctor_ , thank you,” Hermann sniffs. “And it’s not _can’t_ , it’s _won’t._ I am making an exception. Do you want to or not?”

“Hell yeah, I want to,” Newt says. “Is that gonna be okay on your leg, though?”

“Yes. We’ll be dancing slow,” Hermann assures him. Newt hands Hermann his headphones, and Hermann cues up the first song before tucking his phone back into his pocket and putting in one of the earbuds. Newt pops in the other one, and the music starts.

The first song begins, and Frank Sinatra’s voice croons into their ears. It’s a bit bouncy for a slow dance, Hermann supposes. Nevertheless, he puts one hand on Newt’s waist, the other locked in Newt’s hand, and they start to dance in a little circle around the room. It feels a little silly, and Hermann’s leg does require them to go slow, but Newt is exaggeratedly dipping their extended arms to the beat and Hermann finds he doesn’t mind. Newt is smiling, and that’s all he hoped for.

“I didn’t know you liked Sinatra,” Newt comments.

“You seem to be forgetting the Christmas that you played his ‘best of’ album at top volume for a solid sixteen hours in the lab,” Hermann says wryly. “My only options were to lose my mind entirely, or learn to love _Fly Me to the Moon_.” He doesn’t mention that during their decade apart, he found himself listening to this song when he felt particularly like wallowing. It doesn’t matter now, in any case — he’s creating better, fonder associations now.

Newt's gaze is soft, like he knows. The next song, _At Last_ , is slower, and Newt drops Hermann’s hand in favor of hooking his arms around Hermann’s neck. “I think I danced to this at my high school prom,” he says. “The slow dances were like, this and some Coldplay song. Making me kinda nostalgic.” They’ve slowed to something more of a shuffle, Hermann’s arms still circling Newt’s waist, and it _is_ rather similar to the way high schoolers attempt to dance. Newt’s already stepped on Hermann’s feet twice.

“Be sure to leave room for Jesus,” Hermann deadpans. Newt laughs loudly, tugging Hermann even closer instead.

By the time the song is drawing to a close, they’re so close that their foreheads are touching, and their playful banter has melted into a softness as they stare into each other’s eyes. Hermann feels something warm and aching twist in his chest as the next song begins, and Norah Jones starts to sing. _Come away with me in the night…_

Newt presses up to close the remaining distance between them with a kiss. Hermann’s hands tighten at Newt’s waist before sliding down to hold his hips, thumbs brushing the space where his shirt hem meets his pants. Newt smiles against his mouth, and breaks the kiss so he can rest his cheek against Hermann’s shoulder. Their dancing has turned into little more than a slightly swaying hug. Hermann can feel Newt’s heartbeat beside his own, and he closes his eyes, humming along as the last chorus plays.

When the music ends, silence follows — that’s the last song on Hermann’s playlist. Their swaying stops, but Newt stays with his face tucked against Hermann’s shoulder. He shifts slightly and kisses the side of Hermann’s neck. “That was nice,” he whispers, and Hermann shivers a bit at the breath against his skin. Newt lifts his head, and his eyes are shining. “Thank you.”

“I know things have not been… easy for you, this past year,” Hermann says. He places a gentle hand on Newt’s cheek. “Eventually, the difficult days will become less frequent, and then they will pass. Until then, this is the least I can do for the man I love.” He kisses Newt’s forehead, and Newt’s eyes flutter shut. Hermann pulls him into a proper hug, and they hold each other in the middle of their living room, the rain petering out to a drizzle outside their window. Hermann’s heart is fit to burst from his chest, the warm, solid feeling of Newton in his arms anchoring him, and he can feel a faint remnant from their Drift, all those years ago, twining them even closer in heart and mind.

He feels Newt’s smile against his shoulder. “So this dancing thing… does this mean next time Tendo invites us out, I can actually get you on the dance floor? I do a mean Cupid shuffle, y’know.”

Hermann pulls back and looks at him. “Not on your life, darling.”

**Author's Note:**

> songs on hermann's playlist:  
> 1\. fly me to the moon, frank sinatra  
> 2\. at last, etta james  
> 3\. come away with me, norah jones


End file.
